Moonshiners

There are mornings I wake up and it/s like almost I’ve been living a fantasy, in thrall to a delusion.

But then usually while I’m brewing coffee or stumbling around the wooden floor in my bare feet, it hits me like a clanging of an iron door in its nook in a stone wall.

I really am this person, again, and was this person my whole life without explicitly knowing, until enough secrets were revealed to me or I stumbled across that made it beyond obvious I was this snuffed self re-envisioned by the present.

Perhaps this should make me a religious man in some aspect, that I might take up the mantle of Buddhism or Hinduism, each sympathetic to the idea of individual reincarnation of selves in other individual selves.

I don't know that I believe people who were here before get to be here again. But unless I’m playing with different rules in the grand simulation, I can't say other people aren't having the same experience, although that brings into question plenty of individual ideas and theories.

The one truth I feel I can distill into words is that I’ve been before, and a detail also I must confess comes easy to my lips is the matter of when I was being before, who I was.

Does a name ring a bell to a reader? I’ve been Edgar Allan Poe.